


He-he-he-he-he

by worddumb



Series: much ABO about everything [1]
Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, But i made it better, hopefully, there are a few hermits in this but telling who would be spoilers, this is my first multichapter and I'm ashamed it had to be this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-01 12:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: This is sad, and I probably will only post the second chapter, because any further would be a torture for me to write. This exists purely to make ya'll suffer :)





	1. Chapter 1

Grian is woken up with steps, rapidly approaching his door. In a highly hazed state of mind, he darts under the bed- in retrospect, it was a stupid decision- and grabs the dreaded, dreaded pistol he never even learned the mark of, but knew full well was loaded. Well, maybe today was the day, maybe he didn’t make a mistake- he thinks bitterly, knowing full well he isn’t fooling anyone, and almost gets out of his horrible hiding spot, when something happens.

The door handle is yanked. 

The door doesn’t open.

The door is closed. They’d never make a mistake like this.

Unfreezing, Grian retaliates, managing to get himself perfectly still right in time- the door creeks open, just a little bit at first, and he can already smell caution of an unknown beta fill the air. Their scent reminds him of something well cooked, maybe fish and potatoes, and ozone, the latter a lot more prominent- he isn’t sure, and it’s not like it matters. By the time they enter the room, caution is replaced with relief, and Grian realizes he’s cowered his scent glands again- he’s glad that got to the point of autopilot- the stranger, whoever they may be, shouldn’t have noticed him yet. Good.

Tracking down their- no, it’s- movement, he waits until the beta is on the opposite side of the room toscramble from underneath the bed and make a run for it. He doesn’t realize he’s still holding h- the gun until the beta whips around, panic with aftertaste of lightning filling the air, and the very tip of said firearm points at them. It’s steady, really steady, tracking the beta down even after it falls to it’s knees, fear making the air stale and hard to breath with. Grian wonders, for a second, how anyone can enjoy something like that. He gets an answer. He elects to ignore it.

Coming back on track, he notes the beta has a mustache- a funny little thing, that looks like a caricature- and has to force himself back to the present. He can smell no ill intention from this individual, but then, neither could he smell any ill intentions from the other two- so, he tries his best to look threatening, while every fiber of his body screams at him to drop it, paranoid and scared and angry and who knows what else.

The beta starts talking, and he has to strain to understand any of it with how overpowering it’s fear, near terror has become- he almost vomits, and looses his sight periodically, while this mustached weirdo drags his suffering on, seemingly as unaware and helpless as anyone can be: “I mean you no harm, please, lower the gun”- it sounds too calm, but has just enough notes of hysteria to make Grian doubt it’s all a trick- clearly, the scent was not enough- almost making him actually do as told. 

He stops himself.

He knows he can’t speak, so he just starts backing away from the beta, now having to use one hand to search for the door handle, making tremors and jerks of the other ever more prominent. At least his body has enough self-respect to keep it together- 

-all of which falls away, when he smells someone else, forest-y, but oddly familiar, it made him think of Ell- no, no, he’s not thinking about them, not right now- from behind him, a lot calmer but also stronger, than all the fear and now- concern? care? what?- in front of him. His body makes a decision before he can, unfreezing and shoving itself against the nearest wall, and now he’s throwing his aim from the door to the mustached beta, while trying- and semi-succeeding- to come off as sharp and precise, rather than just blindly panicked. 

Source of the nice, if slightly worried forest-y energy enters the room, confusion kicking itself into the mix with a slightly bitter edge. It does nothing for Grians nausea. Cornered, he does his best to look somewhat imposing by _finally_ eliminating the shaking. It doesn’t help much, as the stranger starts talking, and for the love of all that is holy, distinguishing any smell in this mess becomes impossible at best, and everything is spinning, and while he understands perfectly what they’re saying, words escape him, and so he’s stuck with this genuine concern for his well being- his head is about to fall off, oh god.

The situation is dire, so he makes himself talk, careful not to let it sound like begging (it is): “Just let me go”- the strain is almost unbelievable, or so his trembling knees tell him- “and nobody gets”- he nearly gives up, happy he has a wall against his back to hold him upright- “hurt”. The stranger, who Grian only just noticed is wearing the weirdest combination of tomb explorer, cowboy, and pirate clothe that_ should not work_, seems to have realized something as they step away from the entrance and bow slightly, hands up in the air, and away from from him. 

He shouldn’t freeze up. He does anyway. He has an opening, right now, and throwing glances from the kneeling beta to the cowboy-pirate person is counterproductive, but he can’t get himself to move. He can’t, for the love of him, understand what’s going on, and he’s terrified, and these two aren’t terrified anymore, in fact, they don’t seem scared at all, and yet they’re- they’re doing- doing whatever it is they’re doing, letting him go, and the air is unbreathable with their scents, and he can’t distinguish them from each other anymore, and so they get mixed into a concerned thunderstorm in a summer forest, and- he hesitates long enough for someone to peek their head through the door, clad in a respiration helmet with violet-tinted glass.

He can’t take it anymore.

He realizes he lost his grip on the pistol, only when he hears a metallic thud.

He follows soon after, loosing consciousness soon after hitting the floor. It doesn’t hurt. 

If anything, it feels like he’s finally falling asleep- for good, this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Grian is woken up with… A scent. It’s slow, unlike every time before that, and something feels out of place, but he can’t tell what exactly in his hazy state. He feels nice, almost, warmth enveloping him and air fresh, and doesn’t have enough of anything to question it, and so he just lays there, and breathes, and lets soft beeping lull him back to sleep.

When he wakes up, he’s skittish- not at first, but he came to it fast after realizing he’s not _there_ anymore, and that might be a lot worse than being in a place he despises, but at least _knows_, and soft stretches of- of something holding his hands down don’t help that at all. Trying not to hyperventilate, he goes still and focuses on smelling the air- no one seems to be around, so he deems it safe to take a peek. He seems to be right about his assertion, so he opens his eyes fully and takes a look around- he’s in some sort of ward room, so not at all what he expected to see- hooked up to some sort of an IV or something on his arm, which he doesn’t trust in the least, if only he could yank it out- But well, whoever put him here wasn’t an idiot, good god that was just great news, shit.

With nothing better to do, Grian searches the room further, noting there’s a few other beds- unoccupied, good- and quite a bit of plant life, but no flowers. The walls are nice, pastel colors with even some murals painted here and there, and all in all, the place isn’t that depressing- but he’d have to be an idiot to believe that, restrains and all. Even if he did have a very nice, sit-up bed. Even if the blankets were the softest thing in the world. Even if- actually, mainly because of all those things, he was being criminally confused for a second there, shit his thinking was slow, fuck-

Inhaling once more, he finally noticed a breathing thingy connected to his face, and oh shit he was walking a very thin line there, what if- no, he can smell through it just fine, it didn’t cover his glands after all, so he was safe, good, he almost had a heart attack there _holy shit_\- Forcing himself to relax, Grian takes a few deep breaths, and than concentrates on the restrains- even pulling on them didn’t make it hurt, but on the flip side, trying to slither out or snap them has proven perfectly useless. 

Letting his head fall against the pillows, he tries to calm down _again_\- panicking in any given situation was _stupid_, he was not doing _that_\- which proves to be hard, the beeping getting louder and faster and more annoying, blankets too heavy, needle in his arm loud and pulsing, and every injury he’s ever gotten aching and whining and overall too much _there_, and holy shit he was so tired of this, when will it stop, he should know to be calm by now bu_t_ _he_** _doesn’t_**\- As if to make matters worse, someone enters the room, making him stiffen and fall from trying to curl into himself. Huh. Now even these restrains hurt. Well, at least this was known territory.

The stranger- Grian realizes- was that same mustache he threatened with a gun. Fare, if he were it, he’d also want to talk. The beta, meanwhile, cleared it’s throat, looking really awkward, like it’d rather be anywhere else in the world, smelling vaguely of anxiety: “Uhhh… Can I?..”- it gestured to a stool right next to Grians bed he failed to notice earlier, and confusion _crushes_, no, fucking **_demolishes_** any and all composure he had, _what_? What the _fuck_? Absolutely muted, he nods, shrinking into himself as it carefully approaches, he doesn’t _get it_\- seemingly realizing what’s going on, it slows a little _more_ and sits down on the very edge of the stool carefully, following him with it’s eyes very, very cautiously, as if he were a vild animal, shit _shit _**_shit_** he wasn’t helping that in the slightest- _concentrate, you fucking dog._

Yanked back to the present, he sees the beta’s slouching a bit, which looked somewhat forced, clearly there was a lot of emotions beneath the facade and Grian had no idea, if he’d rather know what it was _for sure_\- it absolutely reeked of anxiety and guilt, but he knows better than to trust scents at this point- the mustache opens it’s mouth, it’s unfamiliar smell strengthening and making him dizzy: “Uh, hi. We’re uh, we’re sorry we restrained you-“ “What?”- okay, shit, fuck, damn, just because he didn’t expect this doesn’t mean- “Oh, sorry, this is probably very weird to you, I honestly don’t know why they sent me, of all people, I have no idea what I’m doing, oh my goodness me, did I just ruin everything? Oh, Xisuma’s gonna kill me-“

Wait, no, Grian has no idea what was going on but like hell will he be a reason for someone getting punished, not on his watch, fuck you Xisuma whoever the hell you are! “No, it’s fine!”- maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, but fuck you too, self- “I’m just a bit surprised, had a busy day, you know?” Really, this will be the end of him, he should know better than to stick up for others, but he just never learns, does he? At least this time, it pays off- the beta chuckles, some of it’s nervousness melting away, and shrugs awkwardly: “Yeah, a pretty busy week, actually”. He just blinked, not understanding but trying his best to be good- suit-beta took it as a sign to carry on, going back to rambling again: “That’s kind of part of a reason, why you have an IV, you were just so horribly malnourished, and we thought you’d die, and than someone said you’d try to yank it out, so we had to make sure _that_ doesn’t happen, because what if you bleed out-“ “Why? You don’t even know me”- oh fuck him until the day he dies- a flurry of emotions filled the air and beta’s face, so very sad and compassionate and bittersweet, making tears- well fuck him running, shit, just what he fucking needed- run down his face from the absolute punch it all packed, he barely even heard the words that followed: “You were dying”- they were unproportionally quiet, barely registering behind this storm of **too fucking much**\- “we couldn’t just leave you there. We save tons of people like you, but- but nothing like this has ever happened!”- the tone was growing to be disbelieving- “We just had to finish our job, and- I understand if you don’t trust us, just- how about we make an agreement?”

Thank god that blizzard of scent calmed down by then, otherwise Grian was pretty sure he’d fail even to nod carefully at the beta, who lit up, a lot less anxious and a lot more happy, and went on to describe whatever it came up with: “So, basically, I untie you and you don’t try to pull the IV out! A pretty good deal don’t you think?”- smiling back sheepishly and nodding again, he had to turn away when Mustache went to unclasp the restrains, gentle and almost not touching him at all. Getting up and going around- which Grian only knew from sound and smell, he’s shut his eyes reflexively, shit- it went to unclasp the other hand, smiling reassuringly, and rather obviously wanting to ruffle his hair, which he minded quite a bit, thank you very much- thank god it didn’t, he’d just die on the spot-

“Sooo… My name’s Mumbo. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, that was very rude of me-“ “And here I thought it was Mustache”-okay _FUCK_\- a startled, but genuine laugh slaps him back to reality, where the supposedly offended beta looked semi-comfortable for the first time ever since it entered- Okay, What? What? Holy shit?

The confusion was probably thick enough to eat, because Mumbo- what a nice name- cringed a bit from it’s bitterness, before taking on a reassuring smile: “Yeah, we’re kinda bonkers here. But it’s nice, I think! Anyways, do you have anywhere to go? We would see for ourselves, but we don’t know your name and..”. That got him to pause. He really has nowhere to go, does he? Wow, that’s a depressing thought. “I…”- he contemplates lying, for a second- “No. Sorry”- he hopes they, whoever they are, won’t try to return him, though it’s probably ridiculous to even think about, why would they take him in the first place if they did that-

“Oh, you've got nothing to apologize for! You can stay here with us for a while, maybe that could be good- only if it’s okay with you though, we’d hate to force you!” 

He blinks at Mumbo. Mumbo blinks back. He brings his hands around himself. Mumbo starts to smell concerned. He notes, distantly, that he curled up into himself completely. He doesn’t register anything beyond that. It’s like he’s in the back of his own mind, apathetic and somber- it’s better this way, he thinks. Utilizing stupid body features. Better this way. So he doesn’t bother. He’s okay.

“Hi!”- the voice is bubbly, with a fun accent, and belongs to an omega, who’s hugging a kosh close to her chest and smells intoxicatingly happy- “I’m Stress! I just wanted to ask, if you likes koshies?” What? The omega- Stress- beamed, putting the kosh down, and- he doesn’t realize he’s been reaching for the animal, until he feels the fur beneath his fingertips. The kosh is pretty, fur grey with spots and slightly pearlescent at the tips, soft and nice and sweet, rubbing against his leg and than squeezing onto his lap, and he curls around the animal a bit, and he’s a lot calmer all of a sudden, so he closes his eyes and relaxes against this precious little puff of happy. It’s so… Content, with the animal against his chest, it takes him a second to realize he’s been stupid, but it’s a bit late by than, so he just squishes the kosh in an attempt to keep the act.

There’s a squeal next to him, so he tenses up and side-eyes it’s source to see the omega clinging to Mumbo and bobbing up and down: “It’s workin’!! See? I told ya!”- her delight is infectious, and he can’t help a small smile forming on his face, so he hides further into the koshes fur and hopes he goes unnoticed. Mumbo, meanwhile, responds, smelling a lot less anxious than it ever did before: “I guess you were right! How?”- it’s tone is… Weird. Grian can’t put a finger on it, and it makes him uneasy. He grips on the animal tighter.

The stool is moved with a harsh sound, making him freeze- it would seem whoever moved it freezes as well, with how quiet everything is for a few seconds: “Sorry about that”- so it was Mumbo, and it sounds awkward- “I just thought I’d leave you and Stress to it, she’s doing so much better than me already!” The omega replies, playful: “Awww, you makin’ me blush! To be fare though, Pearl did most of the work for me, so I’m thinkin’ you should be fankin’ her really!” He doesn’t get it. He feels… Weirder than he did throughout the day right now, and he can’t even fully pin point why! The playfulness feels… Weird, and out of place, and like home, and he _doesn’t like it_, and Pearl is too much there, burning his skin, and- 

He hugs her closer, whispering ‘Pearl’ into the fur, and it elects yet another squeal from Stress, and when he side eyes her again she’s pulling on Mumbo’s sleeve, who shushes her in return, and Grian isn’t sure if he should be happy about his good hearing: “Shhh, you’ll freak them out again! They have a lot on their plate, please!”- from the way it throws glances at him and how hard it was to hear, he presumes he shouldn’t have heard any of it, and that makes him want to vomit, but instead of that he just squishes Pearl tighter and tries to compose himself.

His distress is probably obvious, the air growing heavy with concern: “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Uhhh I- what can I do?”- okay, okay, shit, relax, Grian, it’s okay: “It’s fine! I’m fine!” Oh fuck his voice broke, what the fuck was that squeak- 

“Oh love…”- it is so very compassionate, and the air is so thick with both lightning and cold flowers filling it to the brim, bitter and soft and sharp and- and he can barely take it, but he does, and pulls tighter into himself, the kosh escaping, leaving him to a desperate attempt of evening out his breathing. He tries to calm down, but it’s not working, and he tries not to faint and to relax and pull himself together, to not upset them further, to not hurt them further, and he-

There’s soft humming next to him, and the air is filled with something soft, and everything is soft- he can barely feel anything, it’s as though he’s floating, and it’s so foreign, and he should be scared but he isn’t, he can’t be scared with how nice and serine everything around him is. He doesn’t know how long he’s spent suspended in this little headspace of his, with nothing but soft humming and soft lighting and soft pillows, but when his vision clears, he realizes it was probably a bit- the lighting changed. Huh. 

Grian is so completely drained by it all, he barely has the energy to notice both Mumbo and Stress are there, looking a lot happier than they did before and also utterly exhausted- it’s in their scent, and he feels a weird sort of connection to that. Huh. He’s supposed to freak out over that. He really should feel at least something, but this _weird_ content sorta thing he can’t describe, it’s all heavy and hard and _weird_, not like anything he’s ever felt before. At least he doesn’t remember he did. 

Mumbo and Stress are talking about something, loud enough for him to easily hear, but he somehow slips by it every time- god, he’s so out of it, he should be terrified at least because he isn’t terrified- and honestly, he can’t even force himself to listen in, and they probably know it, and _that_ should get him panicked, but he still isn’t. The kosh- Pearl, what a fitting name- settles down on his legs, weighting him down, and he really should be freaking out and throwing things and running for dear life but… Huh. He can’t do that.

“-you remember Iskall? It just… It seems the same, but worse, and I-“- the words are tired, but filled with pain, and Grian can’t help but emphasize- “Shh, love, Iskall came round, right? Iskall got bettah! This geezer’ll get bettah too!” This one’s a lot more bubbly, yet still same energy carries in each word- “I guess you’re right. I’m just… Worried. I’ll never understand either of them, will I?” “Maybe, but I don’t understand them eithah! An they won’t understand each othah fully as well! That’s how things like that go, love” 

They get quiet. He ponders. The entire exchange leaves him… Confused. And a little scared, in a way he can’t describe. It’s a bit intense, but it doesn’t make any sense so he shoves it away for now and tries to understand, how this could’ve been staged, how it all could be a part of some plan, but the more he digs into it, the less sense it makes. The suspicions and tenseness and confusions are thick and hot, swirling in his chest like wet cement, pushing on his lungs, and the quiet is now tense and ready to blow up, but he calms himself relatively fast- he doubts it’s his achievement, the exhaustion never left after all and he hates how pathetic he is almost as much as he hates the alternative.Well, that’s what he thinks and what makes sense, anyways.

Turning to the duo (or should he say duet?), he notes they both perk up before talking: “So uhh… I guess I… Kinda messed up, huh? Forgot to… Uh.. Introduce myself?”- he hates how questioning he sounds, but both Mumbo and Stress perk up even further, so he’s doing okay- “MmMy name’s”- one last inhale- “Grian”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dies from exite* Koshes are like cats, but not completely cats! Look forward to me explaining what this is all about some time in the future maybe, I'll go sleep now


End file.
